Trust
by Purple.H
Summary: S3, Wilson discovers that House stole his pad and goes to Cuddy. This is the argument that should have happened. Please R&R. PH
1. Chapter 1

Trust

House shook the bottle of the recently acquired Vicodin. He rolled absently between his fingers, engrossed in internal turmoil. Three days he had spent, desperately trying, to postpone this event. He didn't want to give up on the Ketamine and admit it had failed. Although, he couldn't forget, yesterday evening he had been in overwhelming agony. He couldn't deny himself any longer.

He tipped a single white pill into the palm of his hand. He Slipped the bottle back into his jacket pocket with the well practiced movement. He stared at his bittersweet relief. Two-month vacation from the dead muscle and damaged nerves had been the best months for over 6 years. He had allowed himself to hope that the treatment would last. He had been wrong, wrong to hope, and wrong to believe that it would work for him.

The two, deliciously mouth watering, pain free months had changed nothing. He was once again a slave to his merciless damaged nerves. An internal war raged inside his head. Even if his leg was shooting off hot, angry, pulsating pain he wasn't sure if he wanted to let the dream end. To go back to being physically dependant to a drug that would eventually kill him. Once he swallowed the potent opioid, it would be absorbed into his bloodstream, acting on the pain receptors in his brain, and giving him the inevitable high. He despised the unavoidable dependence and physical addiction it made him feel pathetic.

OOOO

"What's up?" Dr Cuddy asked as the head of oncology hurried into her office. Wilson doesn't answer, instead thrusting the open black book at her. "The pharmacy log?" She looks back confused, at the clearly rattled, oncologist who nervously rubbed the back of his neck.

"Look at yesterday." He sighed collapsing into one of the office chairs. Following his instruction she scanned the records, trying to find what had flustered the oncology department head. Third row from the top;

Patient Name: House, Gregory,

Prescribing Physician: Wilson, James M.D,

Prescription: Vicodin, 36 tablets, 15mg.

Authorising pharmacist: Murphy, Robert.

Time issued: 17:33.

Followed by both House and the pharmacist's signatures.

Cuddy looked up.

"You didn't know?" it wasn't really a question but a statement; she could already see where this was going. Wilson shook his head as he paced the office, he was furious. He stuffed hands deeply into his lab coat pockets. "Have you told anyone?"

"No." He shook his head. "I found the numbers didn't match this morning, so I rang the pharmacy asked what was the last of my prescriptions to be picked up yesterday." Dr Wilson stopped pacing the length of the desk, and returned, to anxiously massaging the back of his neck. "He stole my pad! He forged my signature!" He angrily pointed at the book.

" Have you spoken to House yet?"

"No." Wilson shook his head, taking a deep breath. His hand returned to the back of his neck. He didn't look forward to that conversation.


	2. Chapter 2

Twenty minutes later House entered the office, the thin shaft of wood back by his side. The pain had magnified suddenly since the night he had asked Wilson for the Vicodin three days ago. It had gone from the annoying ache that wouldn't go away. Too the angry, white-hot nerve pain that fires heavy artillery up his spine that would rival the Somme. That morning he found that he could no longer bear weight on his leg without support. Sadly he finally resorted to his cane.

Cuddy and Wilson couldn't hide the surprise and disappointment in their eyes, as they watched their friend limp up to the desk leaning heavily on the cane.

"What's up boss? I've got a hot date waiting." He joked, infuriating Wilson. "God, I love clinic duty. You should have seen the pair of apples on the last one I had…" House trailed off as he noticed that neither Cuddy nor Wilson were playfully disgusted at his statement. He tapped his cane on the floor, like a child fiddling with his sleeve before getting told of by the principle.

Cuddy held out the pharmacy log. House bowed his head instantly realising the agenda of the sudden meeting. He hadn't thought Wilson would notice, he was usually so caught up in his own patient's long tale of woe, to spot that there was a page missing out of his pad. "You're going to shout, mind if sit for this, my leg hurts." He whined, childishly as he sat in the nearest desk chair. He made a show of stretching out his leg to get comfortable. "O.k, please, go ahead." He waved his hand nonchalantly.

Cuddy opened her mouth ready to get an explanation, but was beaten by Wilson who could not contain his anger and frustration any longer.

"You stole my pad!" He screamed at his friend "You illegally obtain a schedule III narcotic. Not only could you face up to 5 years in jail but you made me your dealer!" his face bright beetroot "10 years, House, 10 years I could get for supplying you with it. Why didn't you just ask?"

House rubbed his leg, seething. "Yes, this is all about you! Poor, pathetic Wilson. I came to you, for help, but apparently it's all in my head." He growled. "No dead thigh muscle, no damaged nerves, just middle age."

"When was this?" Cuddy asked surprised Wilson hadn't mentioned any conversation with House.

"Monday." Dr Wilson answered quickly. "You weren't limping, you were just depressed because you missed a diagnosis and looking for a high." He turned his anger back at his crippled friend.

"Yeah, apparently it was all in my head, I imaged the searing pain radiating from my leg because I was sad that I failed a case." House thundered on ignoring Cuddy interruption. House stood up he wanted out of the office, he didn't want this. He didn't want the pain.

"You're addicted to puzzles, but you failed. Like a junkie you played me!"

"Right… that's all I'm doing, looking for a high, it can't possibly be that without medication I have a baseline of 6.5!" House spat at his so called friends.

"House you obtained narcotics illegally! If this gets out you're not only one that could lose their license." Wilson gesticulated wildly.

"No, I'm just the one that has to live in pain, who is labelled as a drug seeker and addict by his own best friend!" The two men stood red in the face from arguing. Their eyes locked on each other's. The electrifying tension between the two men could have lit up a city. Wilson was so shocked by what House had just revealed. He just stood staring at his friend. House thought of him as a best friend, House had never had omitted feelings like that.

"Now, you're done trying to castrate each other." Dr Cuddy stepped in-between the two angry men breaking some of the tension. The argument was getting them nowhere. "We could actually have a civil conversation about this?"

"Sit Down, Both of you!" She pointed to her desk chairs. She watched House move toward the high backed chair. The argument had clearly exhausted him, as the limp was more pronounced than normal as he took the two steps to the chair.

"Firstly, I'm not going to report this. If the pharmacist didn't notice the forgery then I'm not going hunting. I'm not going to risk the careers of two of my department heads over one bottle of Vicodin." She glared angrily at House "I swear to God, House that if you ever so much as steal an aspirin from my hospital again, I _will_ fire you."Cuddy paused, taking a deep breath. "I need all the pills you haven't taken. I am booking you in for a PET scan at 2:30 today. All further prescriptions after the PET scan will go though me until further notice." She held out hand determinedly for the orange bottle.

"Great you wanna test me. Yeah! I'm faking! Just thought I could score with the bad limp and the old cane trick!" He waved the cane at her. "I should have gone for something more original, like screaming." He pulled the small orange bottle out of his jacket pocket as he struggled to his feet. He threw it at Cuddy's desk, he didn't care anymore. The bottle burst open the desk in small white pills. He stormed out of the office leaving Cuddy and Wilson stunned in his wake.

OOOO

"There's 36 here. They're all here!" Wilson said in disbelief holding the discarded pills. "Why would he go to all that trouble and not take one?"

"What happened when House came to see you?" Cuddy demanded heatedly ignoring the previous comment.

"He said his leg hurt, wanted a prescription for Vicodin, I told him, no." Wilson replied defensibly.

"What did you do?"

"I didn't do anything, he didn't say anything unusual that would have indicated a problem."

"Didn't you examine him? Check to see if had just stained a muscle?"

"No." Cuddy shook her head she couldn't believe what Wilson had admitted. Dismissing his friend so quickly was unforgivable. House had asked for help, which in itself was unusual. Wilson had already blown it by dismissing him so quickly. They had pushed House to this by neglect. They were all to blame.

"Great! This is our fault, we lied and you ignored him." Cuddy collapsed into her chair exasperated.

"What?" Wilson yelled making Cuddy jump. "Yes Lisa, we practically forced him to steal my pad and then illegally obtain a schedule III narcotic! I think he managed that on his own freewill."

"Well apparently he's in pain and we ignored him." Cuddy quipped backed testily.

"I didn't ignore him!" Wilson scoffed. "He said there was some cramping but it went away. He's been falling off that skateboard for weeks now. Simple diagnosis sports injury, rest, ice and ibuprofen. For any normal 47 year old it's not exactly unusual."

"That's the point James!" Cuddy angrily stood up fiercely making her point. "He's not normal. He has 25% of his right quadriceps missing. He's only been walking without a cane for two and a half months after an experimental treatment and you didn't even bother to examine him. What the hell where you thinking? This is exactly how it started eight years ago. You were arrogant and lazy!"

"He should have spoken to his physiotherapist."

"But, he came to you! And you slammed the door in his face. You basically humiliated him!" Cuddy exclaimed angrily. "Maybe he was looking for someone he could trust, reassurance, maybe even a friend." Cuddy sighed, calming down. "We need to fix this. You need to fix this." She said pointedly. "No one finds out about this, the prescription slip will be destroyed in six months."

OOOO

Dr Wilson quietly walked through the clear glass door labelled as 'Gregory House M.D.' carrying a small plastic cup, containing one small white pill. The occupant sat, silently, reading and notating articles, he didn't look up. The small medication cup appeared on top of his papers. Dr House dropped his pen onto the desk, leaning back into his chair to observe his former friend. They stared, sizing each other up. House broke the silence.

"I was hoping for guilt or pity, but I suppose I can survive on disgust." He looked down at the small plastic cup that contained his sweet relief. "I was figuring that guilt would land me a full bottle, pity would have at least scored me enough to last me the night. Bummer." House sighed.

"Cuddy's decision not mine. You can pick up your next dose before you leave."

"So glad my pain is official, it's so nice to be trusted." House scoffed, emptying the perfectly formed pill into his palm, God he needed this.

"Oh, shut up House and swallow the damn Vicodin!"

"Go to Hell." Wild brown eyes quickly pierced the icy blue. He watched as Dr Wilson turned on his heel and left the office.

His hand shook with anticipation as he placed the pill in his mouth. Rolling it with his tongue he remembered the rough powdery texture, the acidic taste that made him want to gag, welcoming him back to his unwanted reality. He closed his eyes, hating every moment that the sour taste lingered on his tongue.


End file.
